


Prompt 14: Like A Momma Bird

by irrationalgame



Series: Thommy Comfortween Prompts [14]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Comfortween, Dubcon Mention, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Sex Work, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrationalgame/pseuds/irrationalgame
Summary: Comfortween prompts from https://hurtcomfortex.dreamwidth.org/22946.html14. Like A Momma BirdHelping someone with everyday tasks that they’re unable to do because of illness/injury, feeding them.Jimmy is brought back to Downton after Thomas’s suicide attempt aka what should’ve happened instead of the shitshow we got in canon.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Series: Thommy Comfortween Prompts [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949317
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	Prompt 14: Like A Momma Bird

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Jimmy said, fiddling with his cuff, his collar, a bit of lint - anything to avoid looking at Thomas’s arms - his wrists - where the white bandages were dotted with red. “I didn’t know.”

“You stopped writing,” Thomas said, staring at the bedspread, “I sent three letters and...” he trailed off.

“I didn’t get them,” Jimmy wanted to to reach out, to take Thomas’s hand, to do _something_. To offer some comfort. It was probably too late for that - Thomas had needed it before and Jimmy hadn’t been there. Guilt rolled heavy in his stomach. “Because I wasn’t living there anymore. I wasn’t living...anywhere.”

Thomas looked up then, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. Even now he was more worried about Jimmy than himself. “What happened?”

Jimmy sighed; he’d have to come clean sooner or later. Might as well be now, before he had the chance to get too comfortable and to entertain any hope that Thomas might still want him once he knew the truth.

“Got a bit down on me luck,” Jimmy shrugged with false nonchalance, as if the trauma he’d been through were no more worrisome than a misplaced glove, “lost me job,” _drunk_ “lost me rented room,” _brawling_ “ended up sleeping rough,” _behind some bins, actually._

“You should’ve come,” Thomas said, “I’d have given you money.”

“I know. I couldn’t. I knew if I saw you again I’d - I’d never want to leave. This place seemed like a dream and it were best to keep it that way.”

Thomas didn’t seem to know what to say to that.

“I’d never have been let past the threshold if Carson knew what I’d done,” Jimmy paused, his throat tight, “an’ I won’t be angry if you kick me out once you know.”

Thomas blinked; “As if I’d judge you after _this_.”

“That’s - it not the same,” and he took Thomas’s hand, just so he’d have held it once, in case Thomas really did throw him out. It was thin and pale and cold, so Jimmy gently tried to rub some warmth into it as he talked. “You’re sick. What I did...I didn’t want to do it but...I mean I could’ve gone to the workhouse instead. Or the church. But...I thought it would be easy. Fun even. I imagined lonely, rich old birds like Anstruther scooping me up off the street and taking me to their warm bedrooms where I’d get to sleep in a soft bed and have a hot bath after and...all I had to do was lie back and think of England,” his voice broke and he made to pull away, but Thomas held his hand fast and Jimmy didn’t dare to struggle too much in case he hurt him.

“Jimmy,” Thomas said without a hint of judgement, “it’s alright.”

“It’s bloody not _alright_ ,” Jimmy said and he mentally cursed himself for crying. He hadn’t meant to cry, but then he hadn’t meant for a lot of things to happen. And they had. So many bad things had happened that it seemed like he was a magnet for them. “It’s about as far away from alright as it’s bleedin’ possible to be. Did you know that the sort of men who pick up _catamites_ are generally not very fuckin’ _nice_?”

“Jimmy,” Thomas said.

“That they - they like hurtin’ you. They enjoy it. And because they’re payin’ you, you got no choice but to take it. And cry out, if that’s what they want, or pretend you enjoy it or,” he sobbed, unable to control himself, “just lie there like you’re _dead_.”

“Jimmy,” Thomas said - it was barely a whisper and Jimmy knew then he’d gone too far. Thomas was openly crying too, tears silently running down his pale, hollowed cheeks.

“Shite, I’m sorry,” Jimmy shook his head, “I weren’t trying to upset you. I just - I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep lyin’ when you’re so,” he broke off. “I weren’t tryin’ to make it about me, honestly.”

“I know,” Thomas said.

“D’ya want me to go?”

“No.”

“Can I - sit there?” Jimmy pointed to the bed beside Thomas and the under-butler nodded, so Jimmy pulled himself up next to him. Once, it might’ve been a squeeze for them to fit on the cot together, but they were both a few stone lighter - Jimmy from starvation and Thomas from illness. They sat in silence and Jimmy fought to regain some composure.

“I probably smell like old rubbish,” Jimmy said and Thomas huffed out the ghost of a laugh. “God, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Liar.”

Thomas scrubbed a hand over his face and winced. “Not everything is about you.”

“No, but this is. Or at least some of it is.”

Thomas conceded; “I suppose it started when you left. But - that wasn’t all of it. It’s been a long time coming I think.”

“I should never have - I mean that business with Anstruther was stupid.”

“Very.”

“Thomas - I don’t expect to make you better just by being here,” Jimmy said, “I’m not so stupid as to think love can fix you overnight or anything. But I want to take care of you. Like you would if it were me lying there.”

Thomas turned those grey-blue eyes on Jimmy and said; “Love?”

Jimmy blinked. He hadn’t meant to say it like that, in such a throwaway fashion. When he’d been sleeping rough, afraid and near frozen to death on the streets of London, he used to imagine saving up enough money to come back to the Abbey, to Thomas, and how he’d make some grand gesture and proclaim his love under the light of the full moon or some other romantic bollocks. It was stupid and like some overblown soppy novel but - but it had kept him going when he couldn’t think of another reason not to just jump into the Thames.

Jimmy nodded slowly; “Love. Because I - that’s what I wanted to say - every letter I wrote you I were desperate to tell you how miserable I was and how I missed you - because I love you. I think I’ve loved you a long time an’ I’m sorry it took leavin’ to make me realise it.”

“You...can’t Jimmy,” Thomas looked away, “you’re just saying that because of...because I’m not well.”

“No, I’m not. I mean it. And I’m goin’ to look after you Thomas,” he gently pushed back a lock of hair from Thomas’s brow, “like you’ve always looked after me.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say I can stay,” _forever_ , Jimmy thought.

“Of course you can.”

Relief filled Jimmy’s bones and he felt lighter than he had in years, in spite of Thomas’s situation. Because Thomas was _alive_ and Jimmy was _here_ and they were _together_ again.

They were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door and the arrival of Mrs Hughes, a tea tray in one hand and a newspaper tucked under her arm. Jimmy gave her a small smile, which she returned. He was only here because she’d put herself out and gone looking for him. And she’d let him come to the Abbey, despite the state she’d found him in and even though she knew how he’d been making a living. She’d even paid for his train ticket back to Downton.

“I’ve bought you both some tea,” she said, her smile tight and worried when she looked at Thomas. “And I’ve had a chat with Mr Carson, and he’s agreed you can have a room here Jimmy, for the foreseeable future.”

Which really meant she’d strong-armed Carson into it. Jimmy was more grateful than he could say - she’d obviously kept his secret too.

“What about his Lordship?” Jimmy asked, “He weren’t too happy with me when I were...asked to leave.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind, under the circumstances,” she said, “although I must confess I’m not privy to the details of why you left in the first place.”

“The night of the fire his Lordship found me in Lady Anstruther’s bed,” Jimmy stated, matter of fact.

Mrs Hughes raised her eyebrows; “I knew she was up to no good the minute she set foot in the Abbey.”

“He didn’t have a choice really,” Thomas said, “Anstruther wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Mrs Hughes mulled over Thomas’s comment for a moment and said; “It’s a fine line we tread in service. We are all, unfortunately, victims of their flights of fancy, for better or worse, and they can dangle the sword of Damocles over us whenever they feel like it. I dare say ‘Lady’ Anstruther was most persuasive.”

“Too persuasive,” Jimmy grimaced, “it’s why I left her household in the first place.”

She waved a hand; “Then the less said about her the better. If it comes to it, I’ll defend you to his lordship.”

Jimmy gave her an appreciative smile. “Thank you Mrs Hughes, you’ve been kind to me when I’ve not deserved it.”

She chuckled at that and said; “Oh Jimmy, I think you needed a bit of kindness.”

“Now I intend to pay it forward,” he said, and squeezed Thomas’s hand. Thomas gave an almost imperceptible squeeze back.

“I’ll have a room made up for you,” Mrs Hughes said, and let herself out.

“She has a soft spot for you and make no mistake - she was the one who came looking for me,” Jimmy said. “After you - _y’know_ \- she made a trip to London and went to me old workplace. Obviously I weren’t there but she kept lookin’ an’ stumbled across me by chance really.”

“I’m glad she did.”

“Are you?” Jimmy said. Thomas was staring at his arms, his hands pale and shaking a little. Jimmy took them onto his lap. “Let me look after you. Please.”

Thomas gave a tight nod.

And so Jimmy stayed. At first talking to Thomas was akin to getting blood out of a stone. The under-butler had never been the most verbose of people at the best of times, but now he was practically mute unless Jimmy asked him a question. So Jimmy talked instead - filling up the silence with, well, anything. Anecdotes about his life before Downton and carefully selected stories about his life after. Books he’d read. Films he’d seen. Sometimes he’d run out of things to say and then he’d read - he’d pick a book from Thomas’s shelf at random and just start reading aloud.

Thomas had raised his eyebrows in surprise the first time he’d done it and said, sarcastically; “Didn’t know you could read.”

And as Jimmy talked he _worked_. He changed dressings. He nagged Thomas into eating and cut up his food for him. He helped him into clean pyjamas. He shaved Thomas’s stubble when it started to bother him. He cleaned Thomas’s room and changed his bedding. He folded their clothes. He brushed Thomas’s hair. He popped into the village and fetched cigarettes, soap, pomade, or anything else Thomas fancied.

But they didn’t kiss. Or embrace. Or talk about their feelings. So, instead, Jimmy loved Thomas through his words and actions.

And, slowly, Thomas started to talk back to him.

“And I said,” Thomas smirked around his cigarette, “next time come to your uncle Thomas.”

“Blimey,” Jimmy said, reshelving the stack of books that had built up by Thomas’s bedside, “don’t think I like the sound of this Denker.”

“She’s not as clever as she thinks that one,” he ashed his cig into an old, chipped teacup, “but Andy was naive and she took the piss. Couldn’t stand for it.”

“A regular white knight,” Jimmy collected up the glasses and teacups from around the room and put them on a tray by the door.

“I was trying to be nicer,” Thomas replied, “fat lot of good that did me.”

Jimmy plumped Thomas’s pillows and rearranged his blankets. “Why d’ya say that?”

Thomas’s face dropped; “Everyone assumed the worst about me, as always.” He frowned; “Stop fussin’ and bloody sit down will you?”

Jimmy held his hands up and perched on the edge of the bed.

“I were only trying to be a mate to Andy, nothing more, and they all thought - they all assumed it was Jimmy, round two,” Thomas handed his cig to Jimmy who took a long drag.

“Bastards,” he said, “I blame them for - _this_.”

Thomas frowned; “How do you mean?”

“If they’d bothered to see who you really are - if they’d recognised that you’re not the heartless sod you pretend to be - they might have noticed how terribly unhappy you were,” he flicked the dog-end of the cig into the makeshift ashtray. “I’m sorry I weren’t here to notice.”

“You had your own problems,” Thomas put his hand tentatively on top of Jimmy’s - Jimmy covered it with his other hand.

“Of me own makin’,” he said.

Thomas sighed deeply. “As much as I’d like to blame everyone else - and in all honestly they didn’t help - it were my fault. I made this bed, no good crying when they all made me lie in it. You didn’t know me before you came here - I was horrible.”

Jimmy grinned; “I’d have loved to have seen you, swannin’ about like you owned the place no doubt.”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“But whatever you did in the past, you didn’t deserve to be treated badly now, especially not if you were tryin’ to make amends,” Jimmy said. “And don’t ever let me hear you say it was your fault. Blaming yourself for this is like blaming yourself for catchin’ the flu or being hit by a bus.”

“I - thank you for saying that,” Thomas replied, “I needed to hear it.”

“Listen,” Jimmy said, suddenly serious, “what do you want to do Thomas?”

“Maybe a bath? I haven’t had once since...”

Jimmy shook his head; “No, I meant - think bigger. What do you want from life? You’re not happy here, that’s obvious. So what do you want?”

Thomas thought - he was silent for so long Jimmy was unsure if he was going to answer at all.

“I want you, if you’ll have me,” Thomas finally answered.

“That’s a given,” Jimmy replied, “from now on where you go, I go.”

“Blimey,” Thomas smiled, “that’s an interesting prospect.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

And they kissed, a chaste touch of lips that lasted scarcely ten seconds but conveyed so much emotion that on parting both men found their eyes wet.

“I want to go somewhere new,” Thomas said, “where no one knows us and we can be whoever we want. Where I can just be me, without all the past hovering over me to ruin everything. Where we can be together.”

Jimmy smiled; “Somewhere new it is, Mr Barrow. Somewhere new it is.”


End file.
